


Berlin, 1942

by NotAPoet



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, F/F, see summary for content notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAPoet/pseuds/NotAPoet
Summary: During a time of ongoing persecution of the Jews in Germany and beyond, a small group of resistance fighters is trying to make a difference and save as many people as they can.Content notes: No character death, no graphic violence, no concentration camp scenes, but the Shoah is mentioned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this story calls for a preamble.
> 
> This story is set in Nazi Germany. 
> 
> I am a white, non-Jewish German. The fact that I am alive and able to write this today is an immense privilege granted to me simply because my grandparents and great-grandparents happened to be white, non-Jewish Germans as well. They got to survive while millions of others were robbed of their lives.
> 
> Last year, I read the story of Felice Schragenheim, a Jewish lesbian just living her life in Berlin until one day, after a nice day out with her girlfriend, she came home to find Gestapo waiting for her. They took her away, and she never returned home again. She was 22 years old. 
> 
> And I thought, if only there had been someone to warn her that day. 
> 
> That's how I got the idea for this story.
> 
> If your family suffered under the Nazis, please know that for what it's worth, I truly am sorry.

It was early in the morning when Reese entered the library through the back door. The familiar smell of old books and dust accompanied him all the way to the back offices and was strongest near the once magnificant and cozy, now bombed-out reading hall. “Morning, Finch,” Reese greeted as he walked into their base of operation. “I brought breakfast. It's just a few slices of yesterday's bread and a bit butter, but it'll do.” He put a small brown paper bag down on the desk. Finch, whose appearance gave the impression that he had not slept at all, was busy sorting passports and cash into small piles. He gave Reese a quick look. “I'm afraid that'll have to wait, Mr. Reese. I'm just finishing up these packages. There's a family that needs to get out of Berlin, and they need to get out fast.” Reese watched as Finch proceeded to stuff the prepared piles into envelopes. “Don't just stand there, Mr. Reese. Go ahead and put on that Gestapo uniform of yours, you will need it for this one. And please hurry, we're operating on a tight schedule here.” - “Alright, Finch, no need to be snappy.” It took Reese three steps to reach the drawer where he had stored the uniform and service weapon of an unlucky Gestapo man he had encountered in an unpopulated alleyway a few weeks back. He pulled the drawer out and grabbed the neatly folded clothes. “So what's the case?” he asked while changing. “Jewish family. A married couple and the husband's mother. The mother was married to an 'Aryan German' man, a fact that granted the family a certain level of protection, up until last thursday, when he died of a heart attack. Now there's no reason to stop the Nazis from coming after them, and they will do so within the hour. That's why we need to move fast.” Finch stood up from his chair, got his coat and put the filled envelopes into his inner pocket. “We better take this, too.” He grabbed the paper bag Reese had brought in. “I'm sure they'll be hungry. Come on now, Unterscharführer Fusco is meeting us down the block.” - “Aryan German father, so the husband is only half a Jew by Nazi classification. Don't half-Jews still hold some privilege?” Reese asked while walking. Finch looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Mr. Reese, but those privileges only go so far. Especially when the man in question is trying to protect his Jewish mother and wife.” They reached the alley where Fusco was meeting them with a Gestapo truck. “There you are!” he scoffed instead of a greeting. “Good morning to you, too, Lionel,” Reese replied. “Yeah, yeah. Now hop on, I don't have all day.” With Reese riding shotgun and Finch in the back of the truck, Fusco started the engine. “Now where are we going?” Finch told him the address. “Please hurry, Unterscharführer,” he added. “Don't have to tell me that,” Fusco said, pulling onto the street.

There wasn't much traffic those days. Within minutes, they arrived at their destination. “You stay here, Finch,” Reese commanded, getting out of the truck. “Fusco, stand guard.” Entering the building, Reese climbed the two flights of stairs fast, knocking on the door of apartment 34 hard. “Gestapo, open up!” he shouted, knocking again. A moment later, the door opened, reluctantly. Reese quickly entered the apartment, closing the door behind himself. “Hello,” he said, smiling at the frightened man in front of him. “You must be Mr. Schneider. Don't worry, I'm not really Gestapo, but i'm afraid they're not far behind. Pack your bags if you haven't done so already. I can give you five minutes tops, then I'll have to get you and your wife and mother-” he had spotted the two of them at the end of the hallway “-out of here.” Mr. Schneider looked at him, puzzled. “I don't understand. Who are you?” - “It doesn't matter, I'm here to help. Now do as I said.” Reese walked past the man to look out a window. He could see their Gestapo truck waiting in front of the house. The street was still clear. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Schneider still standing there. “Now what did I just say? Hurry!” - “We already have our bags packed. But-” - “Why didn't you say so?” Reese asked, rushing back into the hallway. “Grab your bags, and follow me. You too, Mrs. Schneider and Mrs. Schneider.” The Schneiders looked at each other, clearly pondering what to do. It was the younger woman who spoke first. “He seems to have a plan, Friedrich. I think we should trust him. Whatever it is, it can hardly be worse than being taken by the real Gestapo.” Schneider looked from his wife to his mother. “Is that how you feel, too?” he asked. The older woman hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, then,” Schneider turned to Reese. “We're coming.” Carrying two bags each, the Schneiders followed Reese down the stairs as fast as they could. “Now climb onto the truck,” Reese instructed as they walked out of the house, helping them with their bags. The engine was already running. Reese was the last one to climb the truck, now riding in the back to watch out for actual Nazis behind them.

“Good morning,” Finch greeted the Schneiders. “Please excuse the mode of transportation, but the safest way to get you across the city is to hide you in plain sight, and we don't have much time, so listen carefully.” The Schneiders nodded. “In these envelopes-” he handed them over “-are your new passports, train tickets and some cash. Your final destination is Konstanz. You will have to change trains at some point, the details are also in there. In Konstanz, you will meet my contact.” He told them a name and an address. “For safety reasons, I cannot write that down, so you have to remember it. You pay him with the money I gave you and he will get you into Switzerland. From there, you are free to go wherever you want.” The Schneiders looked at him in surprise, but also with hope in their eyes. But Finch wasn't finished, yet. “I can't guarantee that you will make it, but you cannot stay in Berlin any longer. The Gestapo was going to pick you up at your apartment at 9 o'clock. We made sure that they won't find you there, but they will be looking for you, which is why you must not miss that train. Now these passports I gave you will probably get you through an ordinary control, but they will fail a further background check, so you have to be careful. I would advise you to travel in separate wagons. That way, if one of you should get caught, the others still got a chance. Now, should you get caught, I must ask you-” - “Don't worry,” Mr. Schneider interrupted him. “We won't tell anyone about you or your contact. You've already helped us so much, and we don't even know you. It's the least we can do.” - “Thank you,” Finch said. “No, thank you, Mr. … uh?” - “I'd tell you my name, but the less you know about me, the better. I'm sure you understand.” Mr. Schneider nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Mister, you and your friends, thank you so much!” Then, the truck stopped. “We're here!” Fusco shouted, 'here' being a side street near the train station. “Hurry, now,” Finch said. Reese had already begun unloading their bags. “Do as I said. Your train departes from platform 3 in-” he looked at his watch “-8 minutes. Oh, and take this,” he handed them the bag of bread. “It's quite a long journey, and you must be hungry. Good luck!” The Schneiders all shook his hand and thanked him again. “May we meet again,” were the last words of Mr. Schneider, and then they were on their way. Standing next to each other, Reese and Finch watched them turn around the corner. “'May we meet again'?” Reese repeated. “Let's just hope it won't be in Auschwitz,” Finch muttered without looking at him.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another train heading out of Berlin, someone wasn't as happy to be taking the trip. “Why does Reese always get to do the good stuff?” Shaw complained as the wheels of their wagon rattled on the tracks, right under her seat. “I think getting out of the city for a while is the good stuff, Sameen,” Root replied, smiling. “What do you think, Jakob? Are you excited to go visit your grandparents?” The little boy next to her just nodded, too busy watching the landscape move past the window to answer. “Besides,” Root took a quick look around to make sure nobody was listening in on their conversation. Only a few other passengers were in the wagon with them, women and children mostly. Nevertheless, she leaned over, her face inches from Shaw's ear, and whispered, “You know the Gestapo doesn't allow women in the field, it would be too suspicious for you to be there.” Shaw rolled her eyes, but did not respond. She did not like it, but Root was right, and she knew it. Root lingered for what was maybe a second or two before leaning back to join the boy in looking out the window. They rode in silence for a while, the train stopping every now and then in small cities and villages. When a particularly loud and chatty group of young women got on their wagon and found seats near them, Shaw let out an annoyed sigh. “Are we there, yet?” Root, not fazed at all, took a look at her wrist watch. “Relax, Shaw. Only 52 more minutes.” Shaw reacted by slowly banging the back of her head against the headboard.

* * *

“I have to take this truck back now before somebody realizes it's gone. Anyone want a ride?” Fusco had approached the two of them. “I prefer to make my own way back. As always, thank you for your help today, Unterscharführer, but I don't want to spend any more time than necessary on this vehicle.” - “I'll walk with you, Finch. But we're gonna have to stop and pick up some breakfast, since you gave mine away.” Reese gave Finch a glare. “Alright, then,” Fusco nodded. “Good day, Unterscharführer.” - “Be good, Lionel.” Reese squeezed Fuscos shoulder in passing.

* * *

“There's my grandma!” Jakob exclaimed excitedly. He saw her waiting on the platform as soon as their train rolled into the station. “It's about time.” Shaw got up and stretched. With Root carrying his bag, they followed the boy out of the train and onto the platform, where he immediatly started running toward his grandmother. When Root and Shaw caught up with him again, the woman held her grandson in a tight embrace. Root put the bag down. “Thank you so much for accompanying him!” She had let go of the boy and was now hugging first Root, and then Shaw, who was visibly uncomfortable, tearing up a little in the process. “Our pleasure. Jakob is a precious boy,” Root replied. “I'm sure the fresh air out here will be good for him.” The woman nodded, picking up on her underlying meaning. “Thank you, again. Is there anything I can offer to repay you?” - “Oh, well, this is sort of our job,” Root waved her question aside. “But, there's one thing. Do you know a place where we can have a decent breakfast around here?” The woman nodded and gave her directions. Then, they said their goodbyes, and the woman and boy were on their way.

“Breakfast?” Shaw asked as soon as the woman and boy were out of earshot. “I thought we are taking the next train back to Berlin!” - “We are. The next train to Berlin is leaving in two hours.” Shaw gasped. “You knew this whole time that we were gonna be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere for two hours, and you didn't tell me?” Root grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Don't tell me you're not hungry, Shaw.” She let go and started walking. After a moment, Shaw followed her, shaking her head.

“Do you really have eggs?” Shaw pointed to the menu written on the chalkboard above the counter of the café the woman had referred them to. “Why yes, we do!” The waitress, a middle-aged woman who was most likely the owner of the café, smiled. “We have our own chicken. We still have four cows, too. We use their milk to make our own butter,” she explained proudly. The look on Shaw's face was priceless. In Berlin, butter and eggs were hard to come by those days, especially for two people living off one ration card. Root knew that as far as Shaw was concerned, they might have just as well walked into the land of milk and honey. Her little surprise was working out just as planned. “The countryside isn't so bad after all, hu, Shaw?” She was quite pleased with herself, and even more so when Shaw did not roll her eyes at her. “So, are you ladies ready to order?” the waitress asked. Shaw re-read the menu. “I'll have the scrambled eggs with a side of bread.”

After they finished their meals, Root got up and walked over to the counter to pay. When she came back, she was holding a small, paper-wrapped package. “Eggs and bread to take home,” she answered Shaw's unspoken question as she put the package into her purse. “We won't have to go to bed hungry tonight, Shaw.”

* * *

Back in Berlin, Shaw looked up at the big clock above the entrance of the train station. It was half past 12. “So what now?” she asked. “Harold isn't expecting us back at the library until later this afternoon,” Root replied. “Oh, good. That means we can go home and I can take a nap. Train rides are exhausting.”

They were walking down the street when suddenly two SS men turned around the corner ahead of them. Root reacted immediately by pulling Shaw into the nearest house entrance. “Root, what-” - “Just play along with me here,” Root interrupted, searching Shaw's eyes for an okay. When she did not object, Root quickly closed the gap between them and kissed her, making sure her hair fell forward and hid both their faces from unwanted eyes. Pushing Shaw up against the wall and attempting to cover as much of her smaller figure as possible with her own body, Root tried to concentrate on listening to the sound of heavy boots stomping on the sidewalk growing louder, then passing and fading away. Finally, Root pulled her head back, a little out of breath. “I think they're gone,” she said in a husky voice, her body still pressed against Shaw's. When she made no attempt at moving, Shaw shoved her away, reclaiming her personal space. “We could've hid without the kissing, you know,” she stated. “It's better to be safe than sorry, Shaw. Besides, I'm pretty sure I felt your tongue.” - “Oh, you wish!” They had started walking again. Root smirked. “Just admit it, Shaw. You liked it.” - “Shut up, Root.”

When they reached the apartment building, Root quietly pulled two guns out of her purse, handing Shaw one of them. The place was safe when they left in the morning, but that had been hours ago. For all they knew, a 'good German' neighbor could have called in a suspiciously non-Aryan looking woman not wearing the Yellow Star and now Gestapo was waiting for them behind the door. Apart from their tight group of resistance fighters, no one could be trusted. They worked their way up the stairwell with their guns drawn. No one was there. Shaw gestured for Root to stay back while she listened at the apartment door. She shook her head, signaling that she did not hear anything. Still, she took a few steps back and pointed her gun at the door. Root had stepped forward and pulled out the key. “Here goes,” she said, pushing the door open. No one was there, either. Shaw moved in and did a quick sweep. “All clear!” her voice sounded from the bathroom. Root, who had followed her into the apartment, walked into the kitchen and put the eggs and bread away. She heard the toilet flush. Walking out of the kitchen a moment later, she found Shaw getting ready to lie down for her anticipated nap. While Shaw crawled under the covers, Root sat down on a chair facing the door to keep watch, just in case. She had placed her gun on the table next to her and was lazily chewing on a slice of bread when noise arose down on the street. Shaw grunted; Root got up und walked across the room to peek out the window. Shouted orders and the footsteps of what might have been a couple dozen people grew louder, and then she saw them. “It's the SS again with a group of captured Jews, probably on their way to the Jew Holding Facility,” she informed Shaw. “Poor bastards.” - “Tell them to shut up, I'm trying to sleep,” Shaw grumbled. Root let the curtain fall back, frowning. “This could've been you down there today if those SS men had caught us, you know.” - “Yeah, but it isn't.” Root sighed and sat back down, discarding the rest of her bread. They had been over this a couple of times already. “Besides,” Shaw said into the silence, “If I did get caught, you and Reese would bust me out, right?” - “Absolutely,” Root said with all the confidence she could muster, glad of the fact that Shaw had kept her eyes closed and could not see how worried she really was.

 


End file.
